


The Hand Which Holds The Leash

by blood_and_cigars



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Master/Servant, Pining, Pre Canon, Stockholm Syndrome, abuse mention, from Integra’s side anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 14:17:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17530295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blood_and_cigars/pseuds/blood_and_cigars
Summary: Alucard attempts to have a conversation with Integra about responsibility, instead the topic veers off to the unfortunate realities of his past serving  Hellsing.Integra learns that a century of servitude is a very long time indeed, and that it changes both servant and masters.





	The Hand Which Holds The Leash

Integra  slipped the door closed behind her with a light click. She should have noticed  the icy chill in the air, how the shadows clung darker to the corners of her room despite the first rays of dawn filtering inside. But she was hazy on terrible vodka. (It wasn't even cheap, just bad) It took her a moment to register the figure standing by the window, silhouetted by the bruise purple sky. Of course Alucard was still awake. 

She ignored him, instead she dropped her handbag on a chair and wrestled out of her coat— still in the dark. Ghostly fingers reached out for it, and she let them slip it from her shoulders. He was clearly trying to get some sort of rise out of her; she didn’t intend to let him. 

Integra had stopped staying at the manor past sundown and so he’d taken to waking early in the day. He anticipated her return, she thought, like some trapped damsel in a tale. No, like a dog watching the driveway. Waiting always waiting with a blind devotion that she knew was unearned, and shuddered to consider how it had come about. 

“My Master.” He turned to her with what she thought to be a smile playing at his lips. "You must be trying to put Walter in an early grave."

Only then did she remember the briefing she'd missed, scheduled  _ hours  _ ago. 

It wasn't the first time either, she’d taken to staying away, to drinking late and working remotely in the evenings. She preferred to avoid the manor at night, and more specifically the vampire waiting in the basement for her return. 

How could she have simply forgotten? She wanted to think it wasn’t like her to be so scatterbrained. Well, she supposed there’d be other briefings.

She shrugged. "He hasn't said anything yet." She slipped her shoes off letting them fall where they may. There was the not entirely unpleasant echo of a song stuck in her head. Whatever had just been playing on the radio.  Oh, she was more than a little tipsy.

Sometimes she wondered what his hands would look like on her skin. If she rested her head on his shoulder and listened to him breathe—

No. That was the opposite of where her mind should be wandering.

"He won't. You're his employer." It took a bewildered moment for her to remember what he was replying to. Right. They were still talking about Walter. 

He  _ had _ to be grinning. It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but she heard the mirth in his voice.

As if on cue, the lights flipped on. She blinked as her eyes adjusted. If she turned to look over her shoulder, no doubt she would see a disembodied hand— or if he was feeling exceptionally dramatic, maybe some inky half liquid mass—lingering on the light switch. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of checking either way.

"And I am your Master. Does that stop you?" She walked past him— just a touch too close, the fabric of his coat grazed her sleeve— and collapsed onto a pile of pillows on her bed.

"I wouldn't dream of questioning you,” he said, just solemnly enough to be comical. “I merely…  _ suggest _ that you be more upfront about your excursions. You don't need to pretend you're sneaking out."    
  
She scoffed. "I wasn't. And Walter's fairly advanced in age already. I'd say he's had a good life."   
  
He laughed at that before taking a seat next to her. "I'll let him know you think so." His hair  lifted and swayed around him in an invisible breeze, a few locks reached out to brush her cheek. Presumptuous as always.

Yes she’d been avoiding him— the curve of his lip when he spoke to her. The way, among his ever changing forms, his eyes were always the same. 

Alucard was her vampire, and though he seemed casually affectionate of her, though he sought her out even when she ignored him, she couldn’t help but think that every time she indulged him she was somehow exploiting this magic that tied them together, and the various ways a mind could twist after nearly a century of captivity.

However,  for this moment the tension had fallen away by the graces of exhaustion and drunkenness and she remembered how easy it was to be around him, when she didn’t consider the blood on his hands, or what it meant to be the one that controlled him.

“Why are you still awake?”  

“I’d ask you the same thing. You did not sleep the night, did you?”  

“No, I didn’t,” she said.

“Now tell me Integra,” he said, grin acerbic. “Is this how you intend to lead? Sneaking back inside your own home stumbling and drunk? You’re setting such an example.”

“Says the man infamous for  _ impaling _ his victims.”

“Am I the moral standard you set yourself to? That’s going to end very well.” His mouth twitched but he didn’t show any other sign of displeasure at the mention of his human life. “Oh and everyone’s half convinced you’re dead, might I add.”

“Of course they’re panicking.” She sighed. “I  took the car, what did they  _ think _ happened?” 

He shrugged. “We are so accustomed to our Sir Hellsing being married to her work. Surely only disaster would keep her away from responsibility.”

“I was tired and… I forgot. Surely you can carry on for a single day without me?”

“Night,” he said. “It’s the question of whether we can carry on without you for a single night. And I’m not sure, can we?”

“Well apparently not.” She stared at the room not quite seeing it, wondering how she could clean up this mess. The worst part was that he was right, she knew no one else would ever say a word about this.

“Integra, as far as vices go, this isn’t the worst. But it isn’t the healthiest either. Will you consider... ” 

“Consider what?” She turned to him, waiting. In certain conversations with her, he always chose his words very carefully. Yet another thing she didn’t want to think about; the list was ever growing. 

For better or worse she liked his presence, he’d been a constant in her life these last few years. And she suspected there was genuine fondness in the way he gazed at her sometimes; perhaps even now.  

He’d doted on her since she was a young girl in a way she liked to think he didn’t  _ have _ to. 

“I watched your father take on this very same mantle, and I saw how your grandfather shaped it. They both struggled.  Hellsing suffocates its leaders, it’s a cloying thing. When you run from it, it only becomes hungrier in your absence. ” 

“Are you sure you’re talking about the organization?”

“You might balk at the sheer burden resting upon your shoulders,” he said, ignoring her half hearted attempt at a joke. “However, your time is yours, and so are the decisions. Should you choose to leave, should you choose to work, should you choose to have me disembowel anyone who earns your ire.”

He was beautiful, in his own way. So beautiful that sometimes when he knelt at her feet to gaze up at her, her heart would hurt with it. And when he did not grin and show those teeth, his face was soft and almost kind.

Their faces lingered too close for a moment and she just knew he heard her breath catch. Of course he smirked. 

“What are you getting at with this, Alucard?” 

“I mean, my Master, that all of us bend to your will. If you do not wish to sit in for a briefing, all you’d need to do is speak the words and there is no briefing. It’s far simpler than making yourself sick with drink. You may hold _my_ leash more literally than most, but do not forget we are all of us at your beck and call.”

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “And, if I don’t want this power? If I don’t know what to do with it?”

There was no denying the fact that she was a teenage girl saddled with responsibilities and decisions she could hardly comprehend and each morning and night she wondered at her own inadequacy at handling them. She was so young, brimming with it.  She nursed the slow growing wounds in her heart with more bad choices and staggered back to the manor— no it was not home— every time, feeling even more hollow than before. 

“Contrary to what might often be said, there is more pain in youth. More suffering, and it will only reflect on your future.  Set yourself up for unhappiness now and you’ll have a lifetime of it waiting for you. You may not want your power, but it has you. And it will consume you, if given the chance.”

She looked away, to the creeping dawn outside, and the daylight that did not reach inside her room. She didn’t know what to make of this conversation. 

The first year, the very first year, she’d decided that her father simply hadn’t known. Alucard was clearly a good vampire (whatever that meant) and Arthur must have been tricked into thinking otherwise. 

There was a mistake, somewhere along the line. There were many mistakes and misunderstandings but that didn’t matter anymore, she’d thought, because she knew now and things would be better. 

She’d been a foolish child. She thought she probably still was, in many ways. Unfortunately while hindsight is 20/20 it isn’t as easy to discern one’s current failings.    
  
Sometimes she liked to think of herself as a memory, as something far away. She’d sit and pretend she was watching herself from ten, twenty years in the future, which of her present choices would she be ashamed of then?   
  
Nothing?    
  
Everything?

She hadn’t noticed that he’d been searching her face, with varying signs of distress. Likely checking if he’d offended her somehow. 

He’d told her before that while she’d forbidden him to take liberties with her mind, he did catch snippets of her thoughts here and there. That he could sense high emotions, even if he couldn’t unravel what exactly they were. 

She smiled wanly in assurance.  “That was unnecessarily long winded, you know.”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t certain you were sober enough to keep up. Walter rescheduled the briefing for this evening. Will you attend?” 

“Going out is much more fun though, don’t you think? If I’m staying in, then you must entertain me instead.”    
  
The change was subtle. She wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t close enough to touch. He went very still for a moment, and she could see something about his relaxed posture was now forced. She could’ve blinked and missed the look of sheer horror cross his face before he smoothed out his features.  

Integra watched him, confused. Had something happened? Had he sensed some disaster somewhere else? It’d just been a joke, she’d expected a half hearted smile. Another one of his silly responses. Really the question was nothing compared to the outrageous things he’d said to her before.

“If that’s what you wish, Master.” And the hollow, too steady tone to his voice made her understand.

“ _ No. _ ” She jumped to her feet, as if putting more distance between them would prove her point. “Absolutely not—  I’d never expect anything like— it was a joke. I was making a joke.” 

He did not move for too long, that falsely pleasant expression frozen on his face.  “Are you running from  _ me  _ little Master? I thought you wanted entertainment. Come here, let me entertain you.”

_ “I didn’t mean it.” _

_“_ If my Master desires my bloody embrace, who am I to deny it?” He crossed over to where she stood in a flurry of shadow. His voice turned raw, barely human. “Does it thrill you to think of all the lives I’ve taken? The bones I’ve snapped between my teeth? Or is the appeal in fucking a glorified corpse? Tell me Integra, do you aspire to necrophilia?”    
  
She flinched away from him, knocking into the wall behind her. From her eye level all she could see were his teeth. “Stop,” she hissed. “That is enough of this. Get away from me.  _ Sit down _ .”   
  
“Is that an order?” He did not back away just yet, but he straightened, putting some distance between them.   


“It is.”   


And so he had to obey. She thought she saw his hands tremble, but then he folded them neatly in his lap. “Any other instructions for me, my Master?” Of course his tone was mocking.    
  
She raked her fingers through her hair. God knew she wasn’t sober enough for whatever this travesty was. “I have cigars in the nightstand. Give them to me.”    
  
He did as she said, but not before a disapproving look. “You’re too young to smoke.”   
  
“I thought I’d give myself a head start.” She lit one of the  cigars with an unsteady hand. It didn’t do much to calm her, she hadn’t expected it to, but at least it was something to focus on. She couldn’t quite bring herself to peel herself off the wall yet.   
  
“Well that explains the smell.” 

“I was joking,” she said again.  It was not lost on her how quickly he’d jumped to that particular conclusion. “So that is Hellsing’s great legacy, is it?” 

He did not respond at first, only watched her. She could tell the stillness was a thin veneer, ready to collapse at any moment. Underneath there was a depth of hysterical restlessness, or perhaps that was just how she felt herself. 

“I have nothing,” he said. “Yet you Hellsings always want. ”

She thought of her father and his calm reassuring voice. Of the portrait of Van Helsing hanging in the foyer, of the stories Arthur had told her about the legendary grandfather she’d never met.

She took a deep pull from the cigar, let it out in a puff of smoke. She counted heart beats until her breath was sufficiently even before she asked, “Even my father?” But still her voice came out small, frightened. 

“You mustn’t ask questions you don’t want answered.”

“Are you trying to spare  _ my _ feelings?” She asked, incredulous.

Again that thin calm broke. “ _ Fine _ . What would you like to know, Integra?” He all but snarled. “Your father liked his alcohol, just as much as you,  _ and _ Abraham now that I think of it. It must run in the family.” His smile twisted. “ He expected drinks before bed, several. He preferred his top shelf scotch, but really he’d down an entire bottle of dessert wine if that’s all there was on hand.

“Do you know what else he liked? Young girls.  _ Very  _ young girls. Have I shown you my other forms before? It took some time before we settled on his favorite.”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“He was also very fond of rope, and chains. For himself ironically. And surprisingly enough that was the worst part, for me. You see I’m loathe to cause a Hellsing pain, I think it’s part of the seal. But Arthur—“

“ _ Stop it, stop it. You were right I don’t want to know.” _

_ “ _ Did you want to hear about Abraham instead? He had two identical medical kits— modified for vampires of course. One was for research, the other for— “

“Just shut up, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes it bloody well is.” She shut her eyes for a moment, forced herself to calm down in the ensuing silence. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  

“The iniquity of the father is indeed visited upon the children, Integra. You meet the eyes of your forefathers’ sin every day. Does that upset you?”

“What do you think?” She put out the forgotten cigar in her ashtray. Not much of it was left anyway, it had all but burned out.

“It isn’t my place to make assumptions, is it?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, because really that’s all she could say. “I’m sorry for my family’s past actions, and that I made you recount them.”

“May I stand?”

She looked at him, confused for a moment before she remembered her orders. “Yes, of course. You may leave, if you wish.”

He did not stand. Instead it seemed he was slowly dissolving into thin air.

“Alucard, wait.”

“You are indecisive today, my Master.” He paused, more silhouette than person at that point.

“I will  _ never _ use my power over you in such a way. And if I ever do, you have free reign to slit my throat.”

“And kill the last Hellsing? Who then will hunt the creatures of the night? Who will keep me in check? Do you intend to release me upon an unsuspecting world, Integra?”

She was silent.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, the seal wouldn’t allow anything so drastic, in any case.” He hadn’t appeared to move, but he was closer now, on his knees before her. “My first Master was far too clever for that, he thought of everything.”

“You don’t sound displeased by that.”

“He was an extraordinary man; I loved him. I loved Arthur too.” He laughed bitterly. He did not look at her as he spoke, “I embrace that which destroys me. I adore it. Do you intend to destroy me Integra?”

“ _ No _ ,” she said softly. Her throat was hoarse, as if she’d wept, as if she’d screamed. And maybe it was because she was still a little drunk, but she reached out, tentatively, to cup his cheek.

He tensed for a moment, before leaning into the touch.  “Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

“No, it’s a pretty lie.” And with that he disappeared, leaving her alone in the morning sun, still reaching out for nothing in particular. 

For awhile after, all she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears. Unsteadily she changed into a fresh set of clothes.

Walter would be preparing breakfast, she best go down to apologize.

 


End file.
